Meanwhile
by Lli
Summary: Originally a set of out-takes for another fic, this is a collection of drabbles celebrating the ongoing, yet little known, romance of one D. Butler and one M. Paradizo. Because there's nothing a underage criminal mastermind likes better than an older (and more physically fit) lover.
1. Chapter 1

Like the summary says, these are drabbles that came to me while I wrote/while I am editing Behind the Scenes which didn't really fit into my storyline. Mostly an excuse for B/M fluff, with occasional guest appearances from the rest of the gang (mainly Artemis).They're not in any sort of chronological order, so you'll have to fit it all together.

* * *

Field Trip

They were standing in the National Gallery of Ireland, looking at Carravagio's _The Taking of Christ_. It was the first time she had been able to convince him to leave his cottage for longer than it took to get groceries. It would be the first of two trips in the three years he lived in Duncade, though she didn't know it at the time. Because, what if Artemis came back and found Butler missing?

"Artemis told me that there is always time for art," Minerva commented conversationally, her head tilted to the left, "and, though I can appreciate the aesthetic qualities of these pieces and the talent involved, I don't ... well ..."

"Find yourself moved to tears?" Butler offered.

"Precisely."

"I know the feeling." Butler squinted at the canvas.

Minerva looked up at the man beside her, fighting back a smile. "Does this make us bad people, do you believe, Butler?"

Glancing down, he nodded gravely. "I'm afraid so, Minerva. The deepest circle of Hell is reserved for murderers, traitors and art-unappreciators."

"Well, at least the company will be good," she quipped. Then she paused. "Is 'unappreciator' an actual English word?"

"... No," Butler shook his head.

"I thought not. It's hard to tell with the English language though, some of your words are so ... awkward."

Butler frowned, unsure whether or not to be insulted. "I'm sorry?" he offered at length.

Chuckling, Minerva hooked an arm through one of his. "I forgive you. However, _mon cher _Butler, it is nearly closing time and we need to decide what to do with ourselves. And me, myself, I am wondering if you would like to go to see an awful American film and tell me just how improbable all the action sequences are?"

"I would be delighted," Butler told her, tucking her elbow to his side and matching her impish smile with a grin of his own.


	2. Chapter 2

And another one. The London bit will be explained shortly. Enjoy!

* * *

Daddy's Girl

When Gaspard Paradizo received his daughter's credit card bill he clutched at his heart.

Sticking his head out his study door he shouted in the general direction of her room. "MINERVA!"

There was no reply. He hadn't really been expecting one. Muttering to himself, he stalked down the hallway. Squaring his shoulders outside her door, he marched straight in. "Minerva, what on earth have you been _doing_?"

His daughter was sitting by her window, _Sense and Sensibility _lying in her lap. She had been staring out the window, two fingers tracing her lips, but she turned to look at him as he entered, eyes following the paper he brandished in one hand.

"What do you mean, Papa?" Her eyes were wide and guileless. But even Gaspard knew his daughter better than that.

"Your credit card bill just arrived in the post," he told her. "It seems you are intent on spending my entire fortune on plane flights. Look," he strode across the room to her, waving the bill. "Geneva, Cardiff, London, Nantes, Bruges, Bilbao, Frankfurt, Edinburgh, Oslo, Stockholm, Milan, Baden-Baden. What's wrong with a taking the TGV over to St. Tropez for the weekend?"

Delicately, Minerva took the offending piece of paper between two fingers. She scanned the list of cities and smiled to herself. If he checked, her father would find that, on the days in question, there had been flights from each of those cities to Dublin, Ireland, for a price easily payable in cash.

Looking back up at her father, Minerva dimpled at him. "You're quite right, Papa. My trip to London was a mistake."

"London?" her father repeated, incredulous. "Only London? Minerva-"

"Is it the money?" she asked innocently, reaching for the laptop on a nearby coffee table. Deftly, she brought up the family's portfolio on her screen, her pretty face creasing in bewilderment. "Our investments are doing very well, Papa, we can more than afford a few trips to visit our fellow Europeans."

Her father sighed loudly through his nose. "It's not the money, Minerva. I thought we were done with our globe-trotting adventures." His memories of demons had been wiped away, but he still remembered the trips he and his daughter had taken. "It isn't healthy, this wanderlust. Should I book another appointment with Dr. Raphael? God, just look what your mother has done to you! Back-stabbing little..."

Minerva waited patiently until her father's tirade subsided. When he had calmed down enough to listen, she said, "Papa, I do not need another appointment with Dr. Raphael, I am very happy. Happier than I've ever been."

Her father looked at her. "I'll make an appointment for Wednesday, alright?"

Minerva's lips tightened. "Whatever you want, Papa." With one hand, she transferred a small percentage of her father's funds to her own account at the UBS. It was more than enough for a few flights around Europe.

"Good. That's my clever little girl." He ruffled her hair affectionately and she closed the laptop's screen. "Now, I got a call this morning from my friend over in Lipica, and he says he has a lovely little Lipizzan mare just waiting for the right rider. What do you say to that, my love? Would you like a nice Lipizzan?"

It was Minerva's turn to sigh through her nose. "Actually, Papa, I believe that the only remaining thing I have in common with myself at age twelve is that I _still_ do not want a pony."

"Well, if you're sure..."

"I'm sure."

"But these plane trips will stop, won't they, darling?"

She looked her father in the eye. "Don't you even want to know why I go?"

Gaspard shrugged. "Shopping?" he offered.

Minerva's shoulders drooped visibly. "Yes. Shopping. In Cardiff. Let me know when you've set a time with Dr. Raphael."

He beamed at her. "Of course, Minnie, of course."

And, with that, he left her.

She waited until his footsteps faded out of range before picking up her phone.

He answered on the first ring.

"Is this a bad time?" she asked, just wanting to hear his voice.

"For you? Never," said Butler.


	3. Chapter 3

Sorry, Colfer, but appearances can be deceiving.

Thank you to Ilex-ferox for beta-ing AND letting me steal Lucien.

* * *

More Than Meet the Eye

"There was a strange little Irishman at the ski resort," Minerva said by way of a hello.

"Oh yes?" Butler didn't particularly mind her abrupt greetings, never having been overly sentimental himself. He shifted to hold the phone between his cheek and his shoulder, freeing up his hands to ladle freshly-made gnocchi out of their pot of water.

"Mmhmm, he kept watching Lucien and me."

"Did he now?"

"Yes. Very intently. Seemed to find us quite amusing. Kept making pointed remarks."

"Really. Such as?"

"Oh," her voice airy, "stupid things like how he was glad to see Lucien was keeping me so busy. You know the sort of thing. Only, the bizarre part is, neither of us have any idea who he is."

"Well, that _is_ strange."

There was a disgruntled sigh on the other end of the line.

"Something the matter?" Butler asked, his voice innocent.

"Of course not." She paused, then continued, equally innocent, "Aren't you going to ask me who Lucien is?"

Butler chuckled under his breath, "I figured if he was important you'd tell me."

"So you're not at all curious?"

"Not particularly. I assume he was your ski instructor? You did say you were going to hire someone."

"He was."

"Well then, there you are."

"He was very pretty."

"I'm sure he was. Frenchmen often are. Pretty, I mean."

"Mmm," her voice lilted appreciatively. When Butler said nothing, she clicked her tongue and continued. "Doesn't it worry you?"

"Doesn't what worry me?"

"That I spent the holiday with a very pretty ski instructor?"

Butler raised an eyebrow at the pasta sauce.

"Not unduly, I have to admit. It's hard to feel worried when you're a forty-something-year-old man, give or take a decade, and you have a sixteen-year-old girl trying to make you jealous. It seems to me that I'm doing pretty well here, despite everything."

Minerva sucked in her breath. "You-" she began, then, with a disgusted huff, hung up.

Humming to himself, Butler put the phone down on the counter and added a bit more red wine to the sauce. Out of the corner of his eye, he glanced at the phone. When it remained silent, he raised his eyebrows. It rang.

"You're infuriating," Minerva told him, but she was laughing. "Though, I suppose I deserved that."

"Well, you don't spend eighteen years as a bodyguard to one of the most infuriating people on the planet without picking up a few tricks," Butler replied. "And you _were _asking for it."

She _mm-_ed in agreement.

"Besides, it might be good for you to send more time with pretty young Frenchmen."

"Did I say he was young?" Her tone was arch.

"Minerva, don't be-"

"No, _you_ don't be. Don't start any of that ridiculous martyrdom ... _merde_," she finished, unable to convey her disdain in English.

"Alright," Butler agreed affably. He was smiling again, but this one was bigger.

She thought briefly before speaking again. "You _were_ worried," she said at last, her voice faintly incredulous.

Butler was quiet for a moment also, before replying, "Can you blame me?"

"No," she said. "I'm sorry. I ... I was worried too, I- it was a really stupid thing to say. I'm sorry."

"_You_ were worried? About _what_?"

"Well," she sounded very small and young all of a sudden, "that you would stop caring. Now that Artemis is back. I know you said you wouldn't and I mean, the last time I saw you everything was lovely and I know that everything's fine, but, still, that was so long ago and at times, I mean, I- oh, for heaven's sake, would you listen to me? I am so stupid sometimes." She sounded fed up with herself.

Imagining her frown, Butler began to laugh, one hand on the counter to support himself. After a moment, she joined him.

"At any rate," she said, once she could speak again, "I had a lovely time. Despite that bizarre little Irishman. But I missed you."

Shifting the phone again so that he could begin to plate the food, he said, "Well, for the next time, you may as well know that I am, in fact, an excellent ski instructor myself."

"Why am I not surprised? Is there anything you don't do, Butler?"

"Well ... actually, no, nothing comes to mind. Except that I _will_ probably spill Artemis' dinner all over the floor if I don't hang up soon."

"Oh dear. What's he having?"

"Well, he's eating a spinach salad with candied pecans and cranberries at the moment, but I'm currently plating pumpkin gnocchi with sage butter."

"And for dessert?"

"I'm thinking he might just want cheese and fruit."

"Well, then, I should let you get on. God forbid he go hungry." She said it without malice, however, and Butler's lips twitched.

"Have you eaten?"

"I've just been called for it. By Beau, screaming up the hall."

"Charming."

"Mm."

They were both silent for a moment.

"I should really go," Minerva said at last.

"Me too, I- this food..."

"Yes."

Neither of them hung up.

"I love you," she blurted out suddenly, and hung up again.

Butler blinked, lowering the phone. "Hm!" he said after a moment, looking very self-satisfied.

"Good news?"

"Artemis!" Butler whirled around to find his smirking charge leaning on the doorframe. "Did I teach you to walk that quietly? Do you want pepper?" The plate of gnocchi was already in his hand, a ready-made distraction.

"Yes and yes. But I can eat it here," said the teen, sliding onto one of the stools around the island worktop.

"If you want," Butler passed him his plate before turning to rustle up a fork.

"I suppose she's quite different now," Artemis mused, accepting the offered utensil.

"Who is?"

"Minerva, Butler. To be fair, you did say as much when I arrived home from the time-tunnel. Though you then very cleverly distracted me with other attributes." Artemis smirked up at his bodyguard.

"Artemis," Butler eyed him warily, "just how long were you listening to that conversation?"

"Not long," his charge replied innocently. And, because it was Artemis, that only made Butler more suspicious.

Seeing that his bodyguard was not comforted, Artemis set down his cutlery and looked the other man in the eye. "I'm not going to tell anyone, Butler, for goodness sake. I - well, let us just say that I am hardly in a position to be judgemental." He returned abruptly to his pasta, applying himself to it with sudden vigour.

Butler blinked. "Excuse me?" he said. "Hardly in a position to- wha- _Who_?"

Artemis looked up at Butler, eyebrows raised. "Who do we know, Butler, who is female, much older than myself, and to whom I am clearly attached? Let me give you a hint: she's rather _short_."

"Sho- Ah," said Butler, comprehension dawning.

"'Ah' indeed," replied Artemis.

"And how is that going?"

"At the moment? Not very well. The whole 'making her believe she had infected my mother with a fatal illness in order to trick her into helping me' scheme didn't quite go down as well as it could have done."

"Yes, I can see how that might have backfired," Butler agreed, nodding.

Artemis nodded as well, chewing his food thoughtfully. "Did you really think I would have ... disapproved, Butler?" he asked after swallowing.

"Well," Butler replied with a shrug, "there are few who wouldn't, without knowing us."

"I know you."

"Yes," Butler allowed, "but still."

"Well, I wouldn't have done. Even if there weren't Holly. You're ... you're much too good to be attached to her for ... for the reasons everyone would have suspected you of."

"Am I now?" Butler asked, his voice self-deprecating.

"Yes," replied Artemis with finality, "you are. And I'm sure she says the same."

Butler smiled. "She does."


	4. Chapter 4

Off-shoot of Daddy's Girl. Not super original, but hey. A twist on Artemi's session with Dr. Po.

* * *

Testing the Waters

Dr. Raphael was a very handsome man in his early thirties with thick-lashed green eyes and swept–back black hair. He smiled at Minerva as she entered; it was a beautiful smile. It wasn't returned.

Ignoring her hostility, he dove straight in. "Your father tells me you've been travelling a lot lately. Is that right?"

"Yes."

"For pleasure?"

"Most definitely," she smirked.

Dr. Raphael raised his eyebrows. "Care to expand on that, Minerva?"

"Not particularly, Doctor."

He jotted something down in his notebook. "Do you feel compelled to travel? To wander? Or are you going with particular goals in mind?"

"With _a _particular goal, yes. And, to set the record straight, not that it is any of your business, I don't wander. I always return to the same place."

The psychiatrist looked up from his notes. "That's not what your father said. He said he'd received a credit card bill listing a different location every other week."

"Yes, that's because he did."

"But then..." The doctor frowned. "You caught connecting flights from the other cities. Paid with cash?"

"Golly, aren't you clever." Minerva was bored and looked it.

"Where do you go?" Raphael asked.

"Nowhere you'll ever have heard of."

"And you go for pleasure?"

"I think we've covered that already, but yes. Especially lately."

"And what's your poison then, Minerva? Shopping? Drugs? Meditation retreats? A lesbian lover?"

"How salacious. I'm flattered. But wrong on all counts, I'm afraid, Doctor."

"Come now, Minerva, this is a confidential session. Sometimes what we like is not always good for us. If there is something you want to share-"

"If I wanted to share, don't you think I would have done it by now?"

"Not necessarily. You are a smart girl; you might think it below you to confide in a simple doctor like myself."

"You've never said a truer word."

He sighed. "Minerva, you are sixteen years old. That's a difficult age. You're going to have a lot of questions and be faced with a lot of choices and I am here to help you."

"And therein the problem lays, Doctor. I am not in need of help. But I appreciate the thought, all the same." She smiled condescendingly at him.

Raphael was not used to being snubbed by his patients. Especially not the female ones. As a younger girl Minerva had been wilful and prone to tantrums, but always a little in awe of his pretty smile and soft voice. Her father had been over the moon at just this small achievement; she had sent all her previous psychiatrists running screaming. With Raphael, she had whined and complained and played games but had never rebuffed him completely. It seemed, however, that sometime in the past four years she had grown up and out grown his charm.

"Please, Minerva, you used to trust me. We used to get along."

She laughed. "Correction, Doctor, I used to be an insolent child and you were a pretty man who paid just enough attention to me to make me behave. We flattered each other's vanity, but we never trusted, never mind _liked_, one another."

"You say you used to be a child. You're an adult now, then, Minerva?"

She smiled, as though at some secret joke. "As often as any of us are," she told him.

"Why do you feel the need to hide your destination from your father?" Raphael tried a different tact.

"I don't. He just doesn't feel like asking."

"Do you think he would judge you?"

"Very much so. But he wouldn't be the only one."

"Does the idea of your father's judgement frighten you?"

She snorted. "Not in the least."

"Is there anyone whose opinion matters to you?"

"Yes."

"Whose?"

Minerva cocked her head to the right, eyeing Raphael speculatively. "I've changed my mind," she said abruptly. "I am going to tell you."

The doctor's ears perked up.

"I go to Ireland on my trips. I go to visit my lover. He's the bodyguard to the teenage heir of an Irish criminal empire who has only recently returned from a jaunt through space and time. My lover is nearly seven foot tall, technically forty-eight years old, give or take about a decade, and could kill you seven different ways with his bare hands before you had time to realise what was happening. He is also makes a wonderful _linguine_ _alle_ _vongole_. His opinion matters to me."

Dr. Raphael sighed, closing his notebook. "Alright, Minerva, you've made your point. You don't feel like sharing. You have my number, though, if you ever change your mind."

"You don't believe me?" Minerva asked, her lips twisting into a mocking little grin.

"No, I don't believe you. You didn't expect me to believe that story, did you?"

"No," she shook her head, "I didn't. But I thought I'd share it anyway. Always good to test the waters." And, with that, she swept out of his office.


	5. Chapter 5

And another one. Watch out for a ridiculous amounts of A/H in what is masquerading as a B/M fic. Oh darn.

Three cheers for Ilex-ferox, intrepid beta.

* * *

Together Together

"Minerva?" Holly's jaw dropped. Almost immediately she focused behind the man behind the French girl. "What's she doing here? _You_ brought her?"

"Yes," said Butler, "she asked to visit Artemis. No reason why she shouldn't."

Holly, clearly, could think of several reasons, but Butler laid a hand on her shoulder and she kept them to herself. Barely.

"Well, go on in then," the elf gestured to the door in front of them with ill-grace. "Work your little genius miracles."

Minerva smiled. "Thank you, I will."

Holly raised her eyebrows. Following the girl into Artemis' hospital room, she and Butler stood in the doorway as Minerva crossed to where Artemis lay sedated.

"I fail to see what she could possibly do for him that I – we - haven't already done." Holly spoke in a whisper, but one that was designed to carry.

Butler smiled placatingly. "It's just to say hello, Holly. They're friends."

Holly snorted but held her peace.

On the other side of the room, Minerva shook Artemis gently back into the land of the living. "Artemis? Artemis, are you awake? I've only been granted a one hour visa, I'm afraid. Who does that, anyway? One hour! It takes that long just to find your room, this hospital is labyrinthine."

Artemis peered blearily up at the blonde blur talking to him. He squinted. "Minerva?" His voice was incredulous. "What on earth are you doing here?" As his vision cleared, he smiled to see her, then quickly shot a nervous look in Holly's direction.

Minerva clapped her hands, clearly delighted with him. "You're awake! Excellent. Butler's been telling me all about your problem– "

Artemis smirked. "I'm surprised he finds the time."

Minerva smacked him on the arm. "Don't be snide, Artemis, you know perfectly well he talks of nothing else when you worry him. And trust me, you always worry him. I should know."

"Hey," said Butler, pretending to be put out, "hey, now."

Minerva beamed up at him. "Well I would worry too, if my charge were such an ungrateful wretch!"

"Excuse me?" Artemis sat up in bed, indignant. Holly fought the urge to make him lie down again.

"You heard me," Minerva told him. "Here you are, being looked after by this woman, goodness only knows how many hours a day, never mind the rest of us going mad with worry, and you can't even be a man and come clean. Don't tell me that's not ingratitude, Artemis."

"I beg your pardon," Artemis glared at his friend, clearly offended. "Come clean about _what_, exactly?"

Minerva smiled condescendingly at him. "Butler told me about Holly's knight in shining armour," Artemis groaned, "your little friend Orion. I know he's not entirely you, that he's made up of all that you have seen and then repressed, but he _is _a manifestation of your guilt and, from what I can see, your love. Because you have _certainly_ repressed both of those. Or, at least, you've tried to."

Artemis gaped at Minerva. "How dare you presume to know– "

"To know what? To know what it's like always having to hide everything? To feel guilty? I think I can just about match you there, Artemis, so you can keep your self-pity." Minerva paused for breath, her hands on her hips. Artemis opened his mouth to respond, but she beat him to it. "And another thing! Speaking of ingratitude: you have, somehow, against all odds, managed to find Holly, to wheedle your way into her affections and now you're just going to sit by and let it all go to waste? Do you know how _lucky _the two of you are to have each other? How rare it is for two people, even of the same species, to be so close? To care so much for each other? And yet here you are _wasting _what little time you have playing stupid, immature mind-games because you are too scared to just admit that you love her and that you've made a few mistakes. Artemis, she loves you. _Bordel de merde_, all you have to do is look at her to see it. How do you two stand being next to each other every day and not say something? If it were me, I wouldn't be able to keep it in. How can you try to hide something so obvious? It's sick." She paused and, her face softening, she waved at his hospital gown. "It has made you sick. Artemis, please," she put her hand on his arm, shaking it gently, "please don't do this to yourself."

Seeming to come to herself again, Minerva looked up to see Butler and Holly standing in the doorway and staring. She blushed. "I – my time must be nearly up. I should go. I..." She looked down at Artemis, who was watching her, a little awestruck. "Get well soon, Artemis. I feel bad always beating Butler at board games."

And with that, she turned and quickly left the room.

As one, and still gaping, Butler and Holly moved aside to let her pass before turning to look at Artemis.

"Go with her, Butler. And for heaven's sake don't talk about me." Artemis licked his lips, trying, and failing, to be urbane.

"Artemis-" Butler began, worry creasing his face.

"I'm fine, old friend. Listen. Did you hear that? Sentences of four. Go with her."

Glancing down at Holly then back up to Artemis, Butler nodded, and followed Minerva into the hall.

Holly looked positively terrified as the room door swung shut behind him. Very slowly, she turned to face Artemis.

He wasn't looking at her, instead feigning interest in his sheets. "They're together, you know. Butler and Minerva."

"I – what? Are you serious? Together together?"

Artemis nodded, still not meeting her eye. "What other kind of together is there? Minerva wants everyone to know, but in Ireland the age of consent is seventeen and therefore ... well, it would make things awkward."

"Somehow, I think that would still be an awkward confession even if she were seventeen."

"Do you disapprove?" Artemis did look up then; he looked her straight in the eyes.

Holly floundered momentarily. "I, uh, well ... no? I mean, Butler's Butler. He's, well, you don't get much more noble than Butler, but ... _Minerva_? _Seriously_? And she's not doing it for some weird ulterior motive?"

Artemis shook his head. "She loves him. Actually, sometimes it's rather annoying. You know how teenage girls can be about their lovers."

"Never shuts up about him, does she?" Holly chuckled.

Artemis gave her a half-smile. Silence descended. Awkwardly.

Holly scuffed the floor with the toe of her boot. "Artemis..." she began half-heartedly.

"You always said we needed to talk," Artemis told her.

"Yes, but we're crap at talking about stuff like this." Holly looked anywhere but at him.

"May I say something, Holly? And then you can do as you like."

"Of course, Artemis," she said, still not meeting his eyes. "You can say whatever you want."

The teen nodded slowly. "Well, Minerva's right, of course. I love you." He said it simply, with a one-shouldered shrug. "And I _am_ sorry. About everything. Well, nearly everything. But I do ... I do love you." Artemis grimaced. "Which, I suppose, means that Orion is not as complete an imbecile as he appears. Horrifying as that thought is."

Holly swallowed, ignoring his attempt at humour. "Nearly everything? What are you not sorry for?"

"I'm not sorry I kidnapped you."

Holly brought a hand up to cover her mouth. She looked up at the ceiling, and her eyes were suspiciously bright. "Mm," she managed, her voice breaking on it. Her hands came down and held each other as though in prayer, and then she looked at him, her lips pressed so tightly together they were invisible. She laughed - though had she been anyone other than herself, it would have been called a giggle - and a smile squirmed its way onto her face.

"I'm not sorry you did, either," she said.


	6. Chapter 6

A bit of a longer one, with definite references to under-age sex, so if that makes you uncomfortable...

Also, guest-starring, in all his deviousness, Artemis, our favourite anti-hero.

Thanks, as always, to Ilex-ferox, who not only betas but does ridiculous amounts of research for me. And, on that note, I'd just like to say that Fowl Manor is a very awkward-sounding house.

* * *

Renewing Acquaintances

It was a month since she'd last seen Butler, and three years since she'd last seen Artemis. The month seemed a lot longer.

So when Artemis called her out of the blue to invite her to stay for a week, she jumped at the chance. She didn't think about the complications, the awkwardness, the anything. She just said yes, and began to pack the minute she put the phone down.

* * *

"I'm sorry it's taken so long for me to renew our acquaintance," the Irish teen sounded honestly apologetic over the phone, "but, unfortunately, another ... misadventure ... interrupted my plans."

"Oh, that's quite alright, Artemis," she smiled, looking out of her bedroom window to the grounds below, "Butler told me you had some more fairy trouble."

"Did he now? Have you spoken to him lately?" You could practically hear his smirk. Minerva cursed herself for her thoughtlessness.

"Oh, a while ago, just to say hello. Don't worry, he didn't say much, only that you'd had to leave town."

Artemis laughed. "Well, that's one way of putting it."

"I hope everyone is alright."

"Yes ..." Artemis hesitated, "yes, we're alright." Trailing off, he went quiet for a moment, clearly thinking of other things. He came back to the conversation with a start. "My apologies, my thoughts are wandering. I've been distracted from my reason for calling. I was wondering if you'd like to come and visit for a week. Mother and Father are very curious to meet you. And, of course, Butler and I would love to have you. What do you think? Can you spare the time from your studies?" This was said with a chuckle, which she joined.

"I'm sure my courses will manage to drag themselves along without me for a few days," she joked. "That would be lovely, thank you, Artemis."

"My pleasure," he said. "Would Saturday be convenient for you?"

"Definitely."

She had the feeling, as she replaced the receiver, that she was missing out on a joke. She found that she didn't really care.

* * *

It had been a month since she'd last seen Butler, and three years since she'd last seen Artemis. It was Butler who had changed the most.

Butler had explained the time-tunnel and its consequences to her, so she had been expecting Artemis to look as he did when she had last seen him. It was a surprise, but a small one.

He stepped forward to greet her as she came out of the Arrivals hall with a kiss on both her cheeks. She appreciated his manners, and smiled at him. He stepped out of her line of sight with an amused little smile. Behind him was Butler.

Butler, whom she hadn't seen in a month. Butler, once again in a suit. Butler, once again clean shaven and taken care of. Minerva found herself using Artemis's arm as a support because her knees had suddenly turned to water. She didn't think she'd ever seen a more beautiful man.

"_Tu m'as manqué_," she managed after a moment, before throwing her arms around his neck. He laughed, hugging her tight, lifting her off the ground. Only Artemis saw the kiss he laid on her jaw, or the way her hands rested, briefly, on his chest when he let her down. Artemis smiled to himself and felt very smug.

"It's wonderful to finally meet you, Miss Paradizo," Artemis Senior stepped up to her as she tried to compose herself. "We've heard so much about you."

"Ah ..." she struggled to arrange her face into an interested expression.

"Allow me," Artemis interrupted, shooting a very brief smirk at Butler over Minerva's head. "Minerva, this is my father, Artemis, and my mother, Angeline."

"It's a pleasure to meet you." Back in control, the French girl bobbed her head with a dimpled smile she saved especially for adults. "Artemis and Artemis? That must get confusing."

"But it's such a lovely name, don't you think?" Angeline pressed Minerva's hand with hers while, in the background, Butler collected her bag.

'It is lovely," Minerva agreed, and mouthed _thank you _at Butler when Angeline turned to her son. She may have let her eyes linger on his jaw line longer than was strictly necessary.

The car ride was nearly an hour. Butler drove, his eyes checking the rear-view mirror every now and again. Minerva found it difficult not to watch his reflection as she nodded along to Artemis' entirely fictional account of how they first met.

* * *

After dinner, she and Artemis took their leave of his parents and retired to the library to play chess.

"We must keep up appearances," Artemis told her, with that laughing little smile. "Chess is, after all, how we first met, apparently."

She laughed, setting out her white marble pieces. "I'll be forever grateful to this game," she told him, pressing a hand to her heart.

"I'm sure you will be," said Artemis, with that same laughing smile that made her think she was missing out on a vital piece of information.

The game took an hour and a half, and was very nearly a stalemate. As Minerva pondered her penultimate move with a frown, Artemis sipped his Merlot and said, quite suddenly, "He finishes his rounds at eleven thirty. His room is directly under yours. Take the dumb waiter behind the tapestry of Mont Saint-Michel hanging beside your door."

Minerva froze in the act of sacrificing a bishop. "Pardon me?" she whispered.

"The dumb waiter, Minerva. To the left of your bedroom door," Artemis repeated, speaking slowly and enunciating clearly.

"How-" she began, then stopped. She smiled wryly. "Genius?" she asked.

"Genius," he agreed, raising his glass to her. "Though all it took was a bit of eavesdropping, I'm afraid."

"I didn't realise the great Artemis Fowl stooped as low as that," she returned good-naturedly.

He laughed. "It was accidental."

She raised her eyebrows.

"Well, to begin with."

She laughed too. Leaving her bishop where it was, and consequently losing the game, she asked, more hesitantly than she would have liked, "Do you ... mind?"

"Not at all." Artemis paused, then spoke again, though more to himself. "Actually, this makes it ... easier, I suppose, to be your friend. Everyone else can think what they like about the pair of us, but at least we know the truth."

"You're not interested in me at all, are you?" It was said with relief.

He shook his head with a half smile. "Sorry. I was, once, in a way. But that's long gone now. It was a ... momentary aberration."

"An aberration? Deviating from an already set trajectory?" she asked, eyebrows raised.

Artemis nodded, still wearing that half smile. "Yes. I'm afraid we both have unusual tastes."

As his knight checked her king, she said, "Thank you."

He held out his hand to her across the chessboard. "Friends?" he offered.

"Friends," she agreed, shaking it.

* * *

"Artemis? What are you doing in here?" Butler sat down next to his charge in front of the security booth's wall of CCTV screens.

"Checking the angles of our cameras. I'm thinking about repositioning two in the conservatory."

"Right," said Butler. "What are you actually doing in here?"

Artemis looked at his friend out of the corner of his eye. "Turning off the loop I've been feeding the cameras on the second and third floors of the south wing since eleven."

Butler froze. "That's the wing where my- and- _Artemis_."

"Don't look at me like that, old friend. You're the one who taught me the meaning of the words 'over prepared'. My father does, occasionally, check the footage."

"Thank you," said Butler, after a moment.

"You're welcome. I expect you to return the favour, should I ever be so lucky. Though I don't suppose she'd show up on the video feed anyway."

Butler put a hand on Artemis' shoulder as he stood to go. "There _are_ other wo-"

"No," Artemis interrupted mildly, "there aren't. Now go away, Butler, you're needed elsewhere. And say goodnight to her for me, if that doesn't ruin the mood."

Butler let his hand linger on Artemis' shoulder a moment longer. "I will," he said, and left.

* * *

She was sitting on his bed, feet balancing on the frame, when he came in. Staring out of the window without the lights on, she didn't hear him close the door.

"You know, you could've turned on a light," he said.

Minerva jumped. "Don't scare me like that! _Merde_! I thought _I_ was supposed to be the one surprising _you_."

Butler chuckled, crossing the room. "I ran into Artemis in the surveillance room, erasing you from the CCTV footage."

"Oh." She smiled, "That was sweet of him."

"I thought so. I think he's trying to rack up some good karma." Butler stood in front of her, running his hands up and down her thighs.

She bit her lip to keep her smile under control. "Does he need it?" she asked, looking up at him.

"He needs all he can get, if he's going to make things work with H- his own love interest."

"Holly?" Minerva finished his original sentence. "Good. I always said they were lucky to have found each other. It would be ungrateful of him to squander it."

"Speaking of squandering..."

"Yes, why _are _we still talking about Artemis?" Pulling herself up by his shoulders, she looped her arms around his neck as he picked her up, her legs wrapping around his waist.

Minerva ran her hands along his cheeks. "I've missed you. I could barely remember what you looked like before."

"You aren't going to ask me to grow it back, are you?"

"God, no. I like being able to see you."

"And all my wrinkles."

"Stop talking, Butler, and kiss me, before you ruin the mood. Please," she tacked on before following own advice.

"By the way," he said, after a moment, "Artemis says goodnight."

"Squandering, Butler."

"Oh dear," he said in mock-dismay, tipping them both onto the bed. Catching himself just before he crushed her, he let her pull him forward, closing the last few inches between them.

* * *

Minerva woke up to the sound of an alarm clock. "Nnnng," she groaned, rolling over into something warm. The something warm rolled her back the other way, kissing her hair gently.

"I've got to be going, I'm afraid."

Minerva opened her eyes, realising where she was and why she felt so wonderfully warm and loose. "Five minutes?" she asked, turning back to Butler. "Please?" she looked up at him through her eyelashes. He chuckled.

"Three."

"Alright," she said, knowing she'd have her way in the end, and probably ten minutes more after that.

The sun was only just beginning to rise and the light that came through the curtains lit her body where she lay only half covered by his white sheets. Resting one massive hand over her heart, he absent-mindedly traced circles around her nipple with his thumb and remembered the first time they had gone to bed together. After weeks of goading him she had become unaccountably shy, all her insecurities suddenly visible. He had found it adorable. Taking care of her was, after all, something he very much enjoyed doing.

She wasn't shy any longer. She lay in his bed like she had spent her life there. He found it incredible.

The sun broke over the tree-line and came flooding in through his window, making the pale curve of her body glow in the dim light. She smiled at him and Domovoi Butler was undone.


	7. Chapter 7

Slowly but surely, right? If you don't know who Claude Levi-Strauss or Agnes Varda or Amélie Nothomb are, google them. I'm starting a new policy of not answering questions whose answers are available on Wikipedia. We'll see how long it lasts...

Thanks, as usual, to the fabulous ilex-ferox.

* * *

Unexpected

At twenty five years of age, Minerva Paradizo was a force to be reckoned with. Not that many people were aware of it. She had four different undergraduate degrees under her belt; had written three separate master's theses on predicting solar flares (because it was interesting); molecular medicine (because she should); the role of women in the films of Anges Varda (because she could); and had recently completed a doctorate on molecular design. Last Wednesday, she had taken up the cello but progress was, admittedly, slow. However, Artemis had always been the artistically inclined one so she wasn't unduly put out by this.

As a child, she had drawn up a twenty-year plan for her future self. There had been different achievements listed and dates by which they needed to be achieved. The goals had been diverse: from mastering the art of applying eye make-up to winning Claude Levi-Strauss's vacant seat in the _A_c_adémie française_. After all, it wouldn't be hard to eulogise Levi-Strauss, now would it?

On the whole, things had been proceeding more or less to plan (her mother's defection having put a slight halt on her progress) until she kidnapped a certain demon from an Italian opera house thirteen years ago. After that everything went right out the window.

She didn't realise it at first. During Artemis' Missing Years, she had worked her way through her first two undergraduate degrees and begun work on her first master's. But, eventually, the years passed and she discovered that she had spent more time enjoying herself than working towards a Nobel Prize.

And so, here she was, twenty five years old, living in Dublin, Ireland, within an hour's drive from two of the four people she loved most in the world, and the only two of the four she actually wanted to spend time with. She _had _mastered the art of making up her eyes; was currently bankrolling her brother's undergraduate career; could do her own laundry; speak seven languages and read eight (Braille being the eighth); was the favourite maths and physics tutor of Trinity College undergraduates; and could make an incredible Ratatouille (the irony that she had been taught how by an Irishman did not escape her). She wasn't, however, internationally renowned, had never won a single Nobel Prize, still couldn't really understand the fuss about Renaissance art, and had let Claude Levi-Strauss's seat pass to Amélie Nothomb, who, in her eulogy of Levi-Strauss, had at one point referred to him, metaphorically, as a Narwhal, able, like the unicorn, to cure poison and melancholy, and who Minerva personally thought to be utterly insane. But then, she was Belgian, so what could one expect?

All of that aside, Minerva was actually, more than anything, completely, overwhelmingly, and indisputably, happy.

Had you told her thirteen years ago that a good Ratatouille and a few close friends would be able to satisfy her, she would have laughed in your face. Now, what made her happiest was that her happiness didn't surprise her; or, worse, disappoint her. She was one of the few people on earth who could honestly say that what she wanted most of all, she already had.

Propping her chin in her hand, she watched Butler sleeping, and wondered whether he would want pancakes or waffles for breakfast (she could make both these days). The pale winter sun came filtering through the curtains, catching in the deepening lines of his face. Gently, she traced his crows' feet as they curved towards his temple. He sighed in his sleep.

At twenty five years of age, Minerva Paradizo was a force to be reckoned with and everyone who needed to know it had always known it.


	8. Chapter 8

More A/H, oh darn.

Thanks to ilex-ferox who had to go over this about a billion times.

* * *

Birds of a Feather

"Butler?"

"_Holly_?"

"Foaly."

"Right." He paused. "Why didn't you just ask Artemis?"

"I did. He refused. His paranoia was playing up a bit at the time. Thought if he gave me your number we might start plotting against him. He mentioned something about poisoned dates and a dead monkey that – Anyway, I just thought I'd check in. You know. Let you know everything was alright. If I can swing a visa, I'll come by soon and we can talk properly. I mean, that is, if that's okay with you?"

"Of course that's okay with me. I'd like that."

"Me too," she admitted quietly.

* * *

Butler's mobile rang, startling him. Putting down _Slaughterhouse_ _5_, he flipped open the phone. The number was listed as unknown. Butler smiled.

"Holly?"

"Open the window would you? I didn't want to tap on the glass and get my hand blown off in return."

"The wi- you're _here_?"

Butler heard her snort. "No, I'm at your other window."

"I just wasn't expecting you, that's all," he retorted, rising to open the window behind the sofa.

"Well, that's one of the many perks of being invisible," Holly told him as she stepped through onto the sill, her shield dropping as she did so. "That, and being able to escape from really awkward blind dates."

Butler smiled, leaning down to hug the tiny elf.

Holly kissed his cheek, then hopped down onto the sofa. Tossing her helmet onto the cushions, she whistled. "Nice digs, Butler. Never had you pegged as the ritzy, arty type."

"I'm not," Butler told her, returning to the loveseat.

The LEP captain levelled a look at him. "What are you doing here, Butler?"

Butler shrugged. "Enjoying my time off?" he offered.

Holly raised an eyebrow eloquently.

"It's not important, Holly. Tell me about Artemis."

Rolling her eyes, Holly settled into the cushions. "Artemis, Artemis, Artemis. It's always about Artemis, isn't it? Why don't we ever just talk about the weather, or sports, or something?"

Butler was used to waiting for his friends to get to the point.

"I mean, really, does Artemis talk about us like this? He'd probably think we were all stalking him if he could hear our conversations." Holly waved her hands around in disgust, blowing her new fringe out of her eyes.

"Has something happened?" Butler asked, trying to keep calm.

Holly laughed briefly. "Has something happened? It's Artemis, when is something not happening?"

"Holly."

"He's getting better," she said. She licked her lips. "He's getting better, and would you like to know why?"

Butler sensed the hidden "but" behind this. "Why?"

"Because of Minerva."

"Be - _Minerva_?"

"Her little spiel. You know the whole "be a man and own up" routine. Well, he owned up. And now he's getting better." Holly glared at the coffee table.

"Oh." Butler waited a beat before continuing, "And you're unhappy about this because ... why?"

Holly gaped at him. "Why? _Why_? You do remember what Minerva said don't you?"

"Yes."

"Well, then, you already know."

"That he loves you? Or...?"

"Yes! Yes, that."

"And do you...?"

"Yes, of course I do!" Holly threw up her hands in frustration. "It's a disaster!"

"Yes, two people love each other. Call in the emergency response team."

"Don't make fun of me, I'm serious. This is Artemis we're talking about."

"The man you love," Butler needled her.

"Don't say that!" Holly all but wailed.

"Why not?"

"Because that's just it, isn't it? The "man" I love. Not elf, not sprite, not even d'Arvitting dwarf. Oh no, that wouldn't be good enough. And not even just any man, a conniving, mentally unstable, lying thief of a man. And can he even be considered a man? Are you sure he's not still just a boy? I swear to Frond, I'm a closet masochist." Holly groaned, burying her face in her hands.

"I see," said Butler. "Well, now, let's-"

The sound of the key card in the lock interrupted him. Holly and Butler looked up as one, both frozen in horror. Holly disappeared.

"_Franchement_, the traffic in this city is unbe-" Minerva caught sight of Butler's expression as she shut the door behind her. "Is something wrong, _chèri_?"

"_Minerva_?" Holly fizzled back into view.

Minerva's hand flew to her heart. "_Sacré_ – Holly! What are you _doing_ here?"

"You're here _together_?" Holly looked from Minerva to Butler and back again. "Oh my Frond," her eyes bugged out, "he really was telling the truth."

Butler and Minerva focused on her immediately.

"He _told_ you?" Butler repeated, aghast.

"When?" Minerva demanded.

"Yes. Right after you left the hospital," Holly answered both questions.

"Sneak," Minerva muttered, crossing the floor towards them. Chin in the air as though daring Holly to comment, she sat down beside Butler. Unconsciously, his eyes still on Holly, the man took her hand in his.

He took her hand, without even looking down, as though he already knew – had always known and would always know – where her hands, her head, her body lay. It was funny, Holly thought, that two people could be so different and yet, once they finally found themselves together, you could barely make out the edges between the two. But somewhere between those edges, between the boundaries of their bodies, there was a glimpse of another world: one in which, somehow – miraculously - there were two people, and they were not alone.

Holly licked her lips. Slowly, her head tilted to the side as she watched the couple across from her, while her expression grew wistful, and slightly sad.

"It's not how you think it is," Minerva said suddenly, interrupting the silence.

Straightening her head, Holly raised her eyebrows. "And how do I think it is?"

"Butler isn't – he's not – I love him. I started it. It's not his fault."

Something like a smile flitted across Holly's face. "I know," she said.

"You do?" Minerva frowned.

"You're a scheming child-genius, and nobody knows scheming child-geniuses like I do." Holly did smile then. "And I know that when you want something, you don't stop until you've got it."

"Very true," Butler agreed ruefully.

Minerva rolled her eyes and looped an arm around his neck, her head leaning on his cheek. Butler smiled, tucking her to his side.

Holly mimed gagging. "You two are going to give me cavities," she grumbled as something painful clenched around her heart.

They shrugged in unison. Holly looked disgusted. Minerva giggled. "Do you want me to– I can come back later, if you would like?" she offered.

"What? Oh no, it's fine, I should probably get going anyway," Holly reached for her helmet. Suddenly she couldn't bear the thought of spending another moment with them. Not when they had what they wanted and she -

"What? Seriously?" Butler asked. "We've barely even started."

"No, I ... I just came by to say hi, and tell you that he's getting better and not to worry. I've really got to go." She fiddled with her helmet strap, a muscle jumping in her cheek.

"He's getting better?" Minerva perked up.

Holly nodded briskly, but was unable to hide a wry smile. "Yes. I suppose I should thank you for your help."

"Help – oh. Oh." Minerva blushed.

Slipping her helmet over her head, Holly paused on the window sill, before closing her visor. "Look, you two, I'm really – I'm really glad you're so happy. Don't let anyone - well, you know. Don't let them take that away. I'll tell him you say hello." And then she was gone.

They sat for a moment in silence, watching the place she had been, the closest they could come to watching her disappear into the distance.

Finally, with a sigh, Minerva stood and closed the window against the night. Flicking the latch, she paused with one hand on the sash. "I hope I made things better and not worse," she said to the window pane.

Butler rose, wrapping an arm around her. "You did, Minerva, don't worry."

"I really hope so. Sometimes I'm not very good at making things better," she said quietly.

"Practice makes perfect," he told her, kissing her hair. She closed her eyes and let the world outside fall away, unneeded.

* * *

Haven City was deep in its simulated night as Holly Short wandered the psychiatric hospital's empty halls. It was well past visiting hours but, as Holly had discovered long ago, being considered crazy by the general populous really had its perks. An LEP badge and buzz baton didn't hurt either.

As she keyed in his door's code, she saw from the CCTV monitor on the wall that he was not asleep either. She hadn't expected him to be.

"Artemis?" she asked, closing the door behind her.

"Fortunately, yes," he replied, smiling in the gloom of his unlit room.

"Why don't you turn the lights on?" she asked.

"It ruins the view." He nodded towards his window overlooking Haven City. The streetlights glittered in the subterranean black. "It never gets this dark above ground."

"I know. It makes me miss the sky," Holly said, hopping up to sit next to him on his bed.

Eyebrows raised, he turned his head to look at her. She'd avoided touching him for the past few weeks. His hospital gown was sleeveless and he could feel the brush of her LEP suit against his arm. "An unusual hour for a social call, Captain. Miss me?" he asked, aiming for jaunty.

"Yes," she said. "I went to see Butler, tell him how you were getting on."

"How was he?"

"He and Minerva are staying at the Negresco. He's thrilled you're on the mend."

"Unlike you." He felt her stiffen beside him.

"That is not true, Artemis."

"Isn't it? It might not be fair, but it may just be true."

"They're really happy together." Holly changed the subject.

"Yes, I know."

"Despite everything."

"Despite everything," he agreed.

"But she's not quite you, is she?"

"And you're not quite Butler, either."

"She schemes, but you're cruel."

"And you have good intentions, but he's a saint."

"Do you know what really gets me about you getting better?"

"Enlighten me."

She swung her legs out in front of her, once, twice. "When you're cured, you'll have to go back."

Beside her, his body froze. She felt his muscles contract against her arm. Already preparing for their witty riposte, his lips were parted, but they said nothing. He was looking at the city, but he didn't see it.

"And yet," he began suddenly, slowly, to thaw, "you know, there are times when I truly believe that, though I am worse than she is and you're not quite as good as he, this could actually work out."

She chuckled. "Well, you're the genius."

In the faint lights of the city, she took his hand in hers. "You should try to get some sleep, Artemis."

Closing his fingers around hers, he nodded. "I'm not the only one."

She smiled. Neither of them moved.

Finally, with a sigh, Holly stirred. Bringing their hands to her lips, she kissed his fingers before slipping to the floor. "Good night, Artemis," she said.

"Good night, Holly," he smiled. As her fingers slid from his, he said, nonchalantly, "I'm fairly certain I shall have a relapse tomorrow. It wouldn't do to deprive Dr. Argon of his favourite toy too soon, would it?"

"No," she agreed, "that would just be cruel."


	9. Chapter 9

Yes, I've been away. If anyone here still remembers me can I just say I'm sorry + the usual excuses (life, shool, life, etc). This follows relatively soon after Minerva verbally abuses Artemis into admitting he's in love with Holly while he has Atlantis Complex. It has nothing whatsoever to do with TLG and is just following along in the general vein of these snippets. Why am I not surprised somehow that my Minerva/Butler drabble arc is slowly being taken over by A/H?

And, as always, thanks to ilex-ferox for her beta-ing prowess.

* * *

Waiting

Minerva was visiting again. Whenever she did this, Angeline smiled too much and gave her husband meaningful looks. Everyone else just played along.

This time they ate dinner on the back terrace because it was summertime and the air was warm, even as the sun set behind the willows. They lingered over their meal, at least the adults did: Myles and Beckett ran off after dessert to play piano and football respectively. Artemis lingered longer than anyone.

Minerva watched him from the kitchen window. He sat on the terrace steps, just outside the square of light her window cast over the paving stones. He was watching the horizon and playing with his wine glass. Butler hummed a waltz to himself as he put away dishes.

"I'll be right back," she told him. He worked a noise of assent into the waltz.

She went through the French windows and crossed to the steps. "May I sit?" she asked.

"Of course," he answered. He didn't look up.

"You aren't waiting for anyone, are you?" She made herself comfortable next to him.

He did look at her then. "No," he said, "no, I'm not. She's busy these days. Work and ... well, life, I suppose."

Minerva laughed. "With Holly, doesn't that just mean more work?"

Artemis smiled faintly. "Probably."

"You miss her, don't you?" Minerva took one of his hands in hers.

He nodded and swallowed. "Of course. As embarrassing as that is to admit. However," he continued quickly, "I am not under any delusions, don't worry. I always knew how this would unfold."

"How what would unfold?"

"This –" he waved expansively with the wine glass in his free hand, "our supposed relationship. It doesn't matter what we tell each other. This, here, _this_ is the reality of it."

"You sitting in the dark, getting drunk?" Minerva sounded sceptical.

"I am not drunk," Artemis told her.

"Perhaps not, but you're certainly on the way."

"Well, so what if I am? I have a long and illustrious tradition of drunken, besotted fools to uphold. For Frond's sake, the words themselves are practically synonymous." His voice was belligerent and achingly lonely.

Minerva's heart broke a little for him, "Don't say things like that, Artemis. Don't, please." She let go of his hand and wrapped her arm around his instead, tucking herself into his side and resting her head on his shoulder. "We'll solve this. We will, I promise. I've got my lover and I'll be damned if you don't get yours."

"Have you though?" Artemis asked. "You see each other every other month, and for such brief periods. No one knows, and – well, are you happy with that?"

"Not usually. But I'm happier than I was before."

Artemis nodded. "I suppose there is that. Though it's cold comfort sometimes, might I just say."

"I won't argue with that."

He leaned his head on hers and sighed. "I'm very glad you're not in love with me, Minerva. You're much too good a friend to waste."

She laughed. "You have such a way with compliments, Artemis, you really do."

He managed a chuckle for her and said, "Go back inside, Minerva, enjoy yourself while you're here. I'll be fine."

She craned her head to peer at him. At last she said, "Alright, but I'm taking the wine in with me."

"As a Frenchwoman, shouldn't you be encouraging me to drink?"

Minerva looked at the bottle and wrinkled her nose. "Are you joking? This is Italian!"

She left him there on the steps, laughing to himself.

##

Angeline had come down for a pot of tea and had spied them on the steps. Quietly, as though they could hear her, she approached the windows. As she watched Minerva lean into her son, she sighed, one hand coming up to her heart.

"Aren't they sweet, Butler?" she asked.

"Pardon me, ma'am?" Butler feigned bafflement from across the room.

"Arty and Minerva, of course! I'm really hoping they'll make things official soon."

"Official, yes." Butler polished a glass, using the reflection to adjust his dubious expression.

"They've so much in common, don't you think? And it would be good for Artemis to have a girlfriend. Not to mention, high time! All of those adventures and whatnot, everyone has to settle down sometime. And Minerva's such a lovely girl."

"Yes, she is that," he agreed without hesitation.

"Oh, well, I should get up to bed. But why don't you mention the idea to Artemis? He's so much more receptive to you than anyone else. If I bring it up he just laughs and sighs and treats me like someone who needs psychiatric help. But maybe he'll listen to you."

"I don't think Artemis listens to anyone if he doesn't feel so inclined, ma'am. "

"I suppose not, but you'll try, won't you? Please?"

"I'll do my best, ma'am."

"Thank you, Butler, you're such a gem, I really have no idea where this family would be without you. Goodnight!"

And she took the pot of tea Butler had made her and went up to bed.

##

Minerva put the near-empty bottle of Barolo down on the marble-topped island with a decisive thud.

"He's drinking too much," she told Butler.

"I'm not sure you're one to talk," he replied.

"That was a very brief and unfortunate phase of my life," she countered haughtily.

"Let him have his too, at least."

"He's lonely," she said, resting her chin in her palm.

"I know," Butler said, looking out towards the shadow of his principal. His faced creased with sadness, then smoothed with visible effort. "There's not much we can do for him, though, is there?"

"Sometimes I feel bad coming here and being so happy. Like I'm adding insult to injury."

"Well, you don't need to come."

"I never feel that bad!" She pretended horror. He smiled for her. "But seriously, Butler, I do feel bad for him. And I feel bad for you because I know you feel bad whenever he does, especially when you can't do anything to help."

"I'm learning to live with it."

"I wish I could make it better."

"You've done what you could already, and that helped. You know, when he was still sick."

"I hope it did."

"You know it did."

She came around the island and stood next to him, leaning on his arm. "Sometimes, I sit on my balcony and drink too much wine and wish for you. Except I, at least, get my wish, from time to time."

Butler sighed, and wrapped an arm around her, kissing her hair. "Ah, young love," he waved a glass through the air.

She slapped his arm and laughed.

"He'll get his wish, Minerva, don't worry. He always finds some way to get what he wants."

Minerva nodded. "I know. Now that I think about it, however, I just hope nothing important gets broken in the process."

They stood for a moment in contemplative silence.

"Well, if nothing else, you two have made Angeline a very happy woman."

"Really?"

"Yes, she saw the two of you out on the terrace and nearly swooned. She wants you two to make it official."

"Oh dear," said Minerva. She tried to say something else sympathetic, but she was laughing too much.

##

Artemis blew out his breath. He set his empty glass down next to him and ran a hand over his face. He really ought to be getting inside, he knew. He was far too old for sulking. He brushed off his trousers and tightened his tie.

"Artemis?" Her voice came from the dark, from nothing.

His hands fell from his neck. "What are you doing here?" he managed.

Holly fizzled into view on the bottom step. "I got lonely," she shrugged. "And work didn't need me tonight, so I thought, maybe... I can come back if this is a bad time."

"No," he said, perhaps too quickly, "no, no, it's not a bad time. Stay. Please, stay with me. I – I've missed you."

She bit her lip and smiled. "Ditto," she said, and came up the steps towards him.


	10. Chapter 10

I don't really know where this came from. I'd been missing these two and the idea was sort of floating around half-baked in my mind for a few weeks and then, all of a sudden, it decided to come out. And now we have this.

Not beta-ed, as I'm sure you'll be able to see in Minerva's rambling dialogue. Post-resurrection of Artemis/TLG so I'm pegging Minerva at about nineteen. However, if her talking bluntly about sex with - oh, why am I bothering? It's a B/M fic. If you're not comfortable with the ship doing/talking about things that all ships eventually do/talk about, go read something else instead. That said, enjoy!

* * *

Talking Nonsense

Wearily, Butler ran a hand over his bald head. The reflection in the mirror showed him a man old beyond his years; it showed him a man who looked even more tired than he felt. Butler sighed.

From behind him, squirrelling underneath one massive arm, she appeared in the mirror.

"Didn't feel like inviting me to the pity party?" she enquired.

"It's not a pretty sight," he said.

"Oh, I don't know, I think this new suit really," her lips twitched, "suits you."

He cocked an eyebrow at her. "Can't even say it with a straight face?"

"_Ah, mais non, cheri, ça te va bien_. It's just your silly language that's funny, not the suit."

Butler fingered his crow's feet. "That's not the only funny thing in the room," he said, his voice bitter.

Minerva met his eyes in the mirror. "Something on your mind, Butler? Something you'd like to talk about? Share with the class, perhaps?" Her face was expressionless. He knew she was angry. He sighed again.

"Minerva, look at me. I'm a wreck of a man. For heaven's sake I haven't even got eyebrows anymore." He held her gaze.

"Actually," said Minerva, reaching up to stroke his cheek, "I rather prefer you this way. It makes such a nice change from the wild man I used to visit on weekends."

Butler chuckled despite himself. She stood on her tip-toes and kissed his jaw, which was as far as she could reach.

"You're distracting me!" he growled, gently pushing her down. "This is serious."

Minerva sighed, flipping her mane of hair over one shoulder. "Haven't you noticed a pattern yet, _cheri_? You get all depressed because _apparemment_ you're _so old_, like it's the _veritable_ end of the world, and then I kiss you until you stop talking such nonsense and then we have sex and start talking about more important things like how awful movie theatre popcorn smells and everyone is happy again. You see?" She smiled up at him winningly.

"It's not nonsense, Minerva." He ignored the fish lips she was making and persevered. "Honestly, Holly says my heart is borderline useless these days. Apparently that death-ray thing really did a number on me."

"Yes," said Minerva, shaking her head solemnly, "those pesky death-ray things always getting in everyone's way. For heaven's sake, they have one thing – one thing! - to do and they can't even do that correctly. I mean, it should be called a hair-removal-ray thing, shouldn't it? "Death-ray thing" is just bad advertising. Really, if they marketed it right, they could probably make quite a bit of money off a new hair-removal system." Her eyes met his in the mirror once more and he felt love rise in his throat, making it difficult to swallow.

He licked his lips. "What if it's so bad I can't even _have_ sex anymore?"

Minerva mimed horror. "Though, actually," she said after a moment, "I think that's probably a highly desirable way to die, having sex with a young blonde."

Butler cocked an eyebrow at her. "Are you sure you're not secretly a teenage _boy_?" he asked.

Minerva looked down at her – frankly, well-endowed - body. "Well," she said thoughtfully, "I suppose it's possible. I do know a very good plastic surgeon, after all. But, whatever my gender, hear me out; this is serious business. Let's say, for the sake of argument, that there is in fact a Heaven, and that you do indeed die mid-coitus because it was simply _trop bien _(for, of course, I am a genius and amazing at everything) and so you find yourself at the pearly gates waiting in line to see Saint Peter, because it's been a busy day for Death and so there's a queue to get in, and everyone's feeling quite sorry for themselves and sharing death-stories. You know, 'I was run over by a truck full of smuggled giraffes!' or 'My wife's secret lover murdered me with the hedge clippers!', that sort of thing, and then at last they get to you and, instead of whining like the rest of them, you get to say 'Well, actually, I was in the middle having some extremely good sex'. Everyone will go 'Ah' and be jealous of you for the rest of the afterlife. Until I die, at least, after which they will hate us both as we will be having noticeably more fun than they are. Because, let's be honest, Heaven sounds like a bit of a boring party."

"As lovely as that all sounds, I'm not sure Saint Peter will let me in after that," Butler pointed out. "I think they have rules about sex and marriage."

"True," said Minerva. "I hadn't thought of that. Goodness, good thing you did though, I could have damned your immortal soul without even realising! I suppose there's only one thing for it: we'll have to get married. And now, preferably, because I brought something special for tonight and I really hate waiting."

Butler looked down at his diminutive lover. "Minerva–" he began.

"No, I'm not finished yet." She turned back to the mirror, her blue eyes suspiciously bright. "Butler, obviously I don't want you to die. And I also don't want you to leave me just to spare me the pain or whatever half-baked noble scheme you've concocted. But, most of all, I don't want you to leave me only to die somewhere that I'm not. _Franchement_, I'd rather you die during sex if it comes to that. I mean, it would be horrible and I'd scream a little and then I'd cry for, well, possibly for ever. But it would be better than getting an e-mail from Artemis one day telling me you've died and would I like to view the body? Because that – that I could not do. That I won't do. I _will not_."

He looked at her in the mirror. A few treacherous tears had spilled out and now clung to her lashes, unsure. "I suppose you had better start kissing me, then," he said slowly, "before I keep talking such nonsense."

She laughed and followed his suggestion.


End file.
